Windburnt
by OutCold
Summary: "When leaves are exposed to a harsh, dry wind, it burns them, leaving them basically alive, but dead and damaged around the periphery. She knew the feeling." Short Lisbon introspective on what Jane has done to her life. Post S&C.


**Disclaimer: I, or more accurately my parents, own a few trees with windburnt leaves. My mother explained windburn to me, and so you get this story.**

**A/N: Yes, it's a post Strawberries and Cream fic. Yes, there are a lot of them. But let's face it, there are MEANT to be a lot of fics about the finale. So you can deal ;).**

**A/N: In case you missed the summary, I'm not sure how you would have, this is Lisbon after Strawberries and Cream, reflecting on what knowing Patrick Jane has done to her life. **

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><p>She tries to go into work the next day as though nothing has happened. Gale Bertram sends her away, despite her protests that she's fine, and she can't blame him. It's obviously a lie, and she doesn't even have the energy to pretend otherwise. She tells him she needs this, this distraction, but he doesn't waver. You need time, he says, but it's the last thing she wants. Jane is still locked up, pending bail. She knows he'll get bailed easily, there's no risk of him running away or killing anyone else. She wonders if he'll come looking for her: hopes that he will, and prays that he won't. She needs to see him, to hear him explain, to have him convince her that he was right. But she's not sure she can cope with it, not sure she can look at him, knowing what he's done.<p>

She leaves the CBI, under threat of being escorted out by security, and goes to her favourite park. There's an oak tree in a clearing that's Lisbon's spot, she lies between it and look up at the leaves, remembering the day that the whirlwind of falling in love with Patrick Jane began, in that exact place.

It was the first case involving an abusive father that they'd ever worked together, Jane had been consulting for a few weeks, and she'd already decided he was a total pain in the ass (even if he was usually right and sometimes, maybe, occasionally rather amusing). The memories were painful for Lisbon, as they always were, and she'd come here during her lunch break to get away. And he'd found her lying under that tree.

"It's beautiful," he commented, "sunlight shining through leaves." He sat down on the ground, and when she didn't say anything to object, lay beside her. There was a pause. "I know you're hurting," he finally said. "I know this case is getting to you. And I think I know why."

She couldn't breathe, her chest tightened. "I don't know what you're talking about," she choked, trying to sound brisk and failing.

"Yes you do. And don't worry; I'm not going to tell anyone. I know you don't want them to know. But I wanted to tell you that I know you're feeling vulnerable, and I know you hate yourself for it, but no matter what you think, this doesn't make you weak. It makes you strong. I think you're the strongest person I've ever met, and I know you can deal with this." He stood up and smiled down at her. "This really is a lovely place. I'll see you back at the office."

And then he'd left her with her thoughts and a whole new view on him. It was the first time she'd seen that sensitive, caring side of Jane that came out so rarely, and it didn't reappear for quite a while, but it was enough to set the ball rolling for her. It opened her eyes, allowing her to see him in a better light, because she knew there was a good man hiding beneath the layers of asshole that he put on.

The leaves had been green and bright on that spring day, a patchwork of colour illuminated by the sunlight. But the winds of the last week had scorched them; the green leaves were brown and dry around the edges. Lisbon's mother, always the gardener of their family, had told her that when leaves are exposed to a harsh, dry wind, it burns them, leaving them basically alive, but dead and damaged around the periphery. She knew the feeling.

Patrick Jane blew through her life for three years, a bitter wind, sweeping her up in his quest for revenge, tossing her through his hunt for Red John, scattering apart the thoughts in her head and sweeping like a storm through her heart. He turned everything upside down, so she didn't know what to think or feel, just knew that she was right there, in the middle of the typhoon. And then he'd found what he was looking for, and blown away.

Leaving her alone in the calm.

Leaving her like the leaves of the oak tree underneath which the wind had started to blow around her.

Leaving her windburnt.

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><p><strong>So, the usual, I would love to know what you thought of it!<strong>


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